It'll get easier
by holmes-osapien
Summary: Sherlock and Molly attempt to bathe their new born son Felix.


Sherlock Holmes had always proclaimed himself 'married to his work'. That was until he met his pathologist, Molly Hooper. He had guessed his feelings for Miss Hooper were more than platonic, but he elected to ignore them as he was unsure on how to act, and if these feelings would be reciprocated.

The events of the fall had left him refugee in Molly's home, which had ultimately drawn the exquisite pair together. Upon his return to the land of the living, he got down on one knee, before proclaiming his love for her, and closed the deal with marriage. At this her heart swelled to twice its original size, as she accepted the proposal through joyous tears.

The happy newlyweds lived for the next year not caring about anything other than each other. They were contented in their version of a utopia. They had not even considered the possibility of children, before Molly had found herself pregnant. Initially Sherlock was shocked, but the gradual sense of ecstasy seeped in, at the concept of becoming a father. The pregnancy ran smoothly for Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, as they soon found a little bundle of joy in their arms, christened by the name Felix Joshua Holmes.

Felix was at the age of 18 months, as his mother fed him, waiting for Sherlock to come home from his recent case. Molly absolutely adored her little boy, and had nearly left her job to look after him full time, until Sherlock convinced her otherwise. This she had been silently grateful for, as she loved pathology dearly. She sighed as she looked up at the clock. It was 6:27. She rose from her position next to Felix's high chair. Placing the bowl, containing the remains of baby food, in the sink, Molly decided she need to bathe Felix, as the poor baby had spilt food all down his front. The baby shrieked, and his clear blue eyes crinkled at the edges, as he clenched his fists in her direction.

She smiled at him, as she approached the chair, and slipped him out of the buckle. The baby babbled some incoherent noises, as Molly half carried, half cradled the small child in her protective arms. Felix was outstandingly intelligent for his age, not surprising considering who his father was, had deduced his mother was carrying him towards the funny room with water. He did not respond kindly to this room. It did not contain any of his play toys, and he detested being placed in a pool of clear liquid.

He started to shriek and cry in attempt to avoid his confrontation with the dreaded water. Molly let out an exasperated groan, as the child in her arms screamed, kicked and writhed him her arms. It was common for young babies to not like bath time immediately, but when it came to her son, he could be incredibly difficult if he pleased, a trait he had acquired from his moody father. This was one of those times.

Speaking of his father, Sherlock had just entered the door to 221B Baker Street, only to be greeted by the sound of his son, wailing from the bathroom down the hall. He sighed as he discarded his beloved belstaff coat and worn blue scarf on the sofa, and walked across the room to assist his wife and son.

Molly spun around, as she heard the door to the bathroom click open. "Sherlock!" She sighed in relief. Sherlock stared down at his petite pathologist. The poor woman was fully dressed, but was soaked through her skin. He couldn't help but laugh at her exasperated appearance.

She frowned and nudged him with her elbow. "It's not funny! You try placing Felix in the bath, and see first hand his destructive powers!" She challenged, as she stepped aside. The boy was wrapped in a towel, sat on the floor staring up at his parents, but was for the most part dry, unlike his mother. Sherlock scooped him up with his long arms, before muttering, "How hard can it be?" His wife simply crossed her arms, as she leaned against the doorframe with raised eyebrows.

45 minutes precisely later, Sherlock was no closer to having bathed Felix. He was now as drenched as Molly. The pair exchanged an exasperated glance as they both stared down at the boy on the floor, wrapped up firmly in his towel. Felix giggled at his parent's expressions of desperation. "It can only get easier right?" Molly implored.

How very wrong she was…


End file.
